


The Firefighters Are On Speed Dial

by incurableinsanity



Series: Winterhawk Shorts [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Cooking, Fire Alarms, Fluff, M/M, and Bucky decides to look after him, and featuring Clint and Natasha as kick ass bartenders, based on a prompt, in which Clint cannot cook for his life, minor Steve/Tony - Freeform, sniper husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incurableinsanity/pseuds/incurableinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bucky doesn’t care who it is, he just wants it to stop. At this rate, he’ll be running on a maximum of two hours by the next time he heads into work. Of course, the fire alarm goes off again at three in the morning."</p><p>Or:</p><p>the 'sorry i set the fire alarm in our building off again for the forty-eighth time i was trying to cook’ AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Firefighters Are On Speed Dial

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the tumblr prompt found [here](http://those-au-posts.tumblr.com/post/101542372172/oddly-specific-aus-i-need)
> 
> Fun Fact: I had this story planned to only be about 1k, but it kinda just got away from me.

Bucky’s had a long week.

First it was the fact that he got no sleep last night because of the stupid punk band teens two rooms down blasting ridiculous music.

Then it was the fact that the fire alarm went off again earlier on in the week when he was on the phone with his boss.

 _Then_ it was the fact that Steve almost accidentally broke Bucky’s wrist during one of the training sessions with the kids at the gym. In a small twist of fortune, he only sprained it.

All in all, Bucky just wants to spend his weekend off in bed sleeping while he can before he decides to kill the kids down the hall.

He’s barely asleep for an hour when the fire alarm goes off.

 

 

 

 

Bucky exhales.

That stupid fire alarm had lasted well into the night because of complications with shutting it back off. He cannot believe how many times the fire alarm goes off in a month. No one really knows what keeps setting it off, either.

His neighbor across from him says that it’s probably the pot-heads two floors up smoking up a storm. The guy whose mailbox is next to him says that the old guy on the first floor keeps leaving his cigarettes lit and unattended.

Bucky doesn’t care who it is, he just wants it to stop. At this rate, he’ll be running on a maximum of two hours by the next time he heads into work.

Of course, the fire alarm goes off again at three in the morning.

Bucky groans loudly, rubbing at his face tiredly. He rolls out of the bed once he figures he should actually get out of the bed and evacuate when he starts seeing the beginning signs of smoke wafting up to his floor. He grabs his phone and hoodie in his rush out, slipping on sneakers and making the four floor descent to the sidewalk while opening up a message to Steve.

He figures he can stay at Steve’s apartment for the night (provided Stark’s not staying there again) and hopefully get a better amount of sleep then he can here.

While he’s typing out the message, the usual firefighters arrive, who Bucky’s come to known as Nick and Phil. The two of them aren’t completely decked out because apparently the fires aren’t ever burning big and bright by the time they arrive, or something.

Phil starts talking to the neighbors while Nick heads into the building, with a fire extinguisher in hand.

Bucky’s pretty sure this isn’t proper protocol for a fire but with the amount of times they’re here, they can probably get away with it.

While he waits for Steve to reply, Bucky also notices a guy making some rounds around the people, dressed in sweatpants and a stained purple t-shirt. He’s got something smeared across his face, and upon closer inspection, looks like charcoal. The guy also has something pressed against the lower half of his jaw.

“Hey,” The guy greets wincing as he pulls away what looks like a wet cloth. The skin there is scorched red and looks almost burned.

Bucky instantly knows who’s been setting off the alarm. Instead of replying, he just raises an eyebrow; he’s half-afraid that he’ll just punch the guy or say something completely asshole-ish – not that it isn’t all that inappropriate anyway. Bucky’s exhausted and running on no sleep because of this fucker.

“I just wanted to apologize for setting off the fire alarm again – for like the 48th time,” The guy says now, pressing the cloth against his face. “I was trying to cook.”

“I think you need a new hobby,” Bucky tells him, clearly unimpressed.

“Yeah, sorry. Ran out of frozen food and I was trying to make eggs before my shift.” The guy sighs. Bucky exhales through his nose, trying to maintain his temper. “Anyway, sorry again.”

The guy makes to leave. Bucky watches him wince when he frowns, and Bucky stops him with,

“You alright?”

“Huh?” The guy whips around, surprised and embarrassed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Just burned my face a bit.”

“Might want more than just a cool towel for that.”

The guy shrugs, “Had to make do before Nick kicked me out here.”

“The firefighter?”

“He’s a longtime friend. Got him on speed dial.”

“Apparently for good reason too,” Bucky snorts. The guy hitches a weak smile.

“Yeah, well, when you’re as bad at cooking as I am….” The guy looks honestly guilty, and also a little relieved. Maybe Bucky’s scowl scared the guy more than he thought.

“I can get you something for your face once we’re allowed back in.”

“No, it’s alright. I was just apologizing to everyone before shoving off to work.” The guy smiles. “Thanks though.”

“No problem,” Bucky says. “If you need something that you can’t set fire to, then I’m up in 4C. Just don’t come knocking at three in the morning.”

“Thanks,” The guy sighs again. “I’m Clint, by the way.”

“Bucky.”

Clint gives a fleeting smile, “Night Bucky.”

“Night Clint.”                                   

 

 

 

 

Bucky didn’t honestly think Clint would actually take up his offer. However, the knock on his door two afternoons later says otherwise.

“Hey,” Clint waves, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Am I interrupting something?”

Bucky glances behind him, where Steve is out cold on the couch (some fight with Tony, he thinks- nothing new).

“No,” Bucky tells him quietly. “Come in.”

“Thanks,” Clint follows him in silently, and Bucky leads him to the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure if I could stop by.”

“Said you could,” Bucky looks him over, and the more he does, the more he’s kind of glad he invited the guy in. He’s skinny, despite the muscles on his arms, and it vaguely reminds him of Steve before he buffed up in high school. Too skinny and in need of real food. And not burnt food.

“I don’t wanna wake your friend,” Clint glances into the living room.

“Stevie’s out like a light,” Bucky assures him. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” Clint gratefully accepts the mug with steaming coffee. “Thanks.”

Bucky shrugs. “So what brings you over?”

He watches as Clint’s face heats up before answering, “I – just – you said…well-”

“I’m just messin’ with you man.” Bucky grins a little. “Any preferences?”

“Something edible,” is the immediate reply. Bucky chokes back a small laugh. Clint smiles a little, if a little shy. “Sorry about the fire alarm again.”

“As long as you don’t do it again.” Clint smiles again, and Bucky nearly melts at the stupidly saccharine-sweet smile that’s still on this side of shy. He really does remind Bucky of the days Steve was a little runt – adorable and in need of being cared for.

“I can only promise that if I’m not the one cooking.”

“Well,” Bucky starts, a slow lazy smile on his face, “I guess I’ll just have to do it for you.”

 

 

 

 

Bucky catches Clint sneaking into the building at six in the morning just as he’s leaving so he could open up early with Steve.

“Clint?” Clint jumps, whirling around; he nearly drops his backpack.

“Bucky,” He breathes, relieved. “Hey; leaving for work?” Clint smiles a bit, looking exhausted.

“Yeah,” Bucky shifts the duffel bag on his shoulder. “You just getting in?”

Clint shrugs, “Night shifts. Just gonna get in and crash.”

“Take care, okay?” Bucky sends a hopefully reassuring smile. Clint nods, returning the smile.

“You too.”

 

 

 

 

“So, the guy who sends you into rage fits several nights a week.” Steve doesn’t phrase it like a question, and Bucky shoots Steve an annoyed look around the punching bag.

“Are we really gonna talk about this?” Bucky waits until Steve gets into a good rhythm to ask.

“I’m just saying,” Steve says around his punches; Steve’s always been good at talking and punching at the same time. It’s one of his talents.

“Considering you and Stark fight at least once a week,” Bucky starts and Steve pauses long enough to put his hands up in a peace-keeping manner.

“It’s just an odd way to meet is all.”

Bucky snorts. “Says the one who met Stark by almost breaking his jaw with your fist.” That had been a story to tell when Steve told him about the weird company owner who almost ended up in a hospital. Steve makes his disappointed face, but Bucky’s not sure if he’s disappointed in Bucky for mentioning it, or in himself for nearly losing control that one day.

“It’s just, this guy-”

“Clint.”

“Clint,” Steve amends. “It’s just, Clint has been pissing you off for months and just after meeting him, you want to help him out.”

Help him out, yes. It’s also a bonus that Clint is pretty cute.

“Well, you can’t judge a book by its cover, Stevie,” Bucky shoots him one of his charming grins, but Steve just shakes his head with a small sigh. Steve steps back from the bag.

“As long as you know what you’re doing,” Steve relents, but he doesn’t sound so annoyed anymore. Steve gets the weird first meeting gig, so he doesn’t judge. “I’m going to grab a quick shower before the first round gets here.”

 

 

 

 

Bucky has no idea why Tony decides to drag him, Steve, Rhodey and Sam to a bar the following Friday nearing eleven at night. Stark always decides on these impromptu outings, and gathers anyone he can rope into them. The last time, Tony had managed to wrangle in Banner and Pepper but Bucky supposes they managed to escape tonight.

“Steve, this club’s got some of the best bartenders in the city,” Tony tells Steve. “Fast, efficient, don’t let assholes run the place. One of them got me into the place, not that I couldn’t have gotten in anyway. But Natasha’s a friend of Pepper’s, so.”

“Fantastic, Stark,” Bucky tells him in a sarcastic tone, “Are we there yet?”

“Tony, I have to work tomorrow,” Rhodey sighs, but he didn’t even really reject Tony’s invitation. Bucky wonders if Rhodey just puts up a token resistance on principle.

“Why did I let this happen?” Sam wonders to himself.

“Steveeee,” Tony whines, “The kids are being noisy. I will turn this car around.”

“Tony,” Steve says, exasperated (but Bucky can see him smiling), “you’re not even driving the car.”

“I will have Happy turn this car around.”

“But, Boss, we’re already here.” Happy informs them. Tony shuffles them out the car towards the club that’s hidden down the alley. There isn’t even a sign for the name, but there’s a long line of people regardless. An Asian woman stands at the ropes blocking the door, looking down at the clipboard. Another woman with blonde hair stands next to her to watch the line.

“Name?” The Asian woman asks, not even looking up at them.

“Stark,” Tony tells her. “Hi Melinda. Hi Morse.”

Melinda doesn’t react to Tony’s greeting, and neither does the other woman. “Go ahead Stark.” Melinda lets them in, and Bucky takes in the décor. It’s relatively well lit, and spacious. The bar runs along the entire back wall; there’s an upper level to the right and several rows of tables around the area. The left half of the room is the dance floor, and Bucky can see the DJ on a raised platform. According to Tony, the place doesn’t really open up until midnight, but VIP’s can get in early.

“C’mon, VIP’s up here.” Tony leads them to the right and up the short set of stairs that’s guarded by ropes and two men in suits. Rhodey and Sam look relatively impressed by the scene, but Steve just looks around, probably used to Tony’s usual need to go to odd places. Bucky doesn’t care either way.

“Is your friend working tonight?” Rhodey asks.

“Yeah, Team Delta, apparently.” Tony shrugs. “The same pair of bartenders always work together.”

“We’ve got time, want to go see Nat?” Steve suggests and Tony agrees. They head back down to the bar to get their drinks, and Bucky spots a red head dressed in leather prepping supplies.

“Natasha,” Tony greets and Natasha looks up with a wry smile.

“Tony, Steve,” Natasha greets. “Who’s all your friends?”

“Nat, this is Rhodey, Bucky, and Sam,” Steve introduces. “Guys, this is Natasha.” Sam and Rhodey both greet her, but Bucky just passes along a nod.

“Where’s Barton?” Tony leans forward.

“Getting changed; he’s running late.” Natasha shrugs. “What can I get for you boys?” They relay their orders, and Natasha begins to get them without needing to write anything down. She’s pretty fast, and has their drinks out in minutes. Sam and Rhodey make their way back to the table. Tony’s chatting up Natasha when Bucky pivots to head over to their table. Instead he hears,

“Bucky?” Bucky turns to see Clint making his way over behind the bar. Clint’s wearing a tight-fitting black tank-top that draws the eyes to his muscles rather than the lack of thereof and black pants and boots.

“Clint?” Bucky says in surprise. Tony interrupts before Clint can open his mouth,

“Barton, there you are. Thought you might’ve set fire to something on the way over.”

“Hardy-har-har Stark,” Clint deadpans, complete with eye roll. “Don’t forget I can spit in your drink.” Tony just grins, used to the blond’s humor. Bucky exchanges a look with Steve, but he looks just as baffled.

“We’ll see you later Nat,” Steve looks at Natasha, who just waves them off. Tony blows a kiss while Steve drags him away. Natasha goes back to prepping.

“So, uh,” Clint starts, “this is awkward.”

There’s a beat of silence between them – Buck starts laughing.

“It’s probably better than our first meeting.” Clint thinks about that, then laughs too.

“There’s plenty of better ways to meet than that.”

“I didn’t peg you for the bartender type.”

“I started out as a bouncer,” Clint shrugs, “covered bartender shifts when someone couldn’t come in. But when Nat started working, I was the only one who could keep up with her and not get in her way. I switched over full time.”

Bucky hums, “Is it a little ironic that the guy who sets fire to food can bartend?”

Clint laughs again, loud and with a large grin. “I’m full of contradictions like that.”

Bucky wants to know them all.

 

 

 

 

As the night wears on and people fill the nameless club, Bucky spends most of the time watching Clint at work. The upper level they’re sitting at gives him a good view of the bar. Sam and Rhodey are swapping stories from their time in the army, and Bucky’s pretty sure Tony and Steve are just swapping spit.

It doesn’t matter much to him, considering he’s distracted by the way Clint moves. Clint and Natasha are, more or less, dancing around each other while providing a huge variety of drinks across the entire bar. At some points, they’ll make a huge show of something, gathering cheers. Bucky’s surprised at how just two of them can cover the entire thing, but it is a show to watch.

“Hey, Bucky, we’re heading out,” Steve tells him when the clock on his phone reads three in the morning. Bucky stands, looking out at the bar one last time.

Clint happens to look up, and sends a blinding grin at him. He looks so carefree and excited before turning back to the drink in his hand.

The image stays with Bucky the whole way home – even when Tony’s drunken rambling starts painting pictures that turns Steve’s face red.

 

 

 

 

When the fire alarm gets set off two days later, Bucky just sighs and heads outside. At least it’s daytime this time. He thought it wouldn’t happen anymore, but by Clint’s sheepish grin, apparently not. Nick and Phil are already inside handling the situation.

“Sorry,” Clint says by way of greeting. He’s dressed in plaid sleep pants and a worn shirt, so he must’ve worked again last night. “Toaster caught fire.”

“You’re a disaster,” Bucky tells him fondly, “I’ll cook you something before you head to bed.”

“Thanks,” Clint rubs at his eyes.

“Long night?”

“It’s a busy workplace,” Clint yawns. “What do you do?”

“Nothing as exciting as you,” Bucky shrugs. “Just a gym trainer with Stevie is all.”

“Just a gym trainer and yet you know Tony,” Clint says mock-skeptically.

“Well Stevie met Tony, and by extension so did I. How did you meet Tony?”

“Nat knows Pepper, met Tony, and then I met them.”

“Somehow everyone comes to know Tony Stark.”

“Well considering the man’s flare,” Clint snorts and Bucky chuckles.

“All clear people,” Nick calls out as he and Phil head back to their truck and get going. Clint follows Bucky back in. Bucky makes Clint something quick, making small talk as he does. Clint laughs at Bucky’s stories of Steve when he was younger, and Bucky in turn laughs about Clint’s stories from when he and Natasha first became friends in high school before they started working together.

Bucky turns away for a few minutes to grab a drink, and when he comes back, Clint’s out for the count on the couch. He smiles, pulling a spare blanket over the blond, and heads into his bedroom to catch a nap before his closing shift.

 

 

 

 

Bucky receives a text during work two days later, but doesn’t get to it until he’s on his lunch.

**_Starkass:_ ** _Steve wants you to ask your boy toy on a date._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Tell “Steve” that he should mind his own damn business._

**_Starkass:_ ** _I’m telling Steve you said a bad language word._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Steve says plenty of bad words at work._

**_Starkass:_ ** _You’re redirecting the topic. Boy toy. Date. Go go go._

Bucky sends Tony a picture of himself flipping the bird. Five minutes later, his phone beeps.

**_Unknown:_ ** _Clint won’t shut up about you._

**_Unknown:_ ** _This is Natasha, by the way._

Bucky takes a moment to add her to his contacts.

**_Bucky:_ ** _How’d you get this number?_

**_Natasha:_ ** _Not important. Clint wants to ask you on a date but he’s afraid you’ll say no._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Should you really be conspiring to do it for him?_

**_Natasha:_ ** _Clint won’t act on feelings even if his life depended on it._

**_Natasha:_ ** _I am giving a friendly push. A nudge._

**_Natasha:_ ** _But if you hurt him, no one will find you ever again._

**_Bucky:_ ** _Noted._

 

 

 

 

Clint ends up crashing at Bucky’s again when Bucky ends up preventing Clint from falling on his face on the stairs. Bucky cooks them breakfast, something simple, and joins the blond at the couch while they watch the good cartoons that are on at seven in the morning. Bucky has to leave at eight to make it to the gym on time, but tells Clint to just crash on the couch if he wants to.

When he gets back, Clint’s still asleep on the couch, one arm hanging off the couch and the other resting on his stomach where his shirt has ridden up.

Bucky steps closer, quietly, and gently tugs free the blanket tangled in Clint’s legs. Bucky pulls it up to Clint’s chest and takes a moment to look him. Clint looks peaceful, bathed in the sunlight coming through Bucky’s windows and golden hair looking soft.

Bucky has to take a step back to stop himself from running his hand through it. Clint stirs, brows furrowing. Bucky indulges, just once, to run his hand through the hair. Clint settles back down with a soft sigh.

Natasha may have said what she said, but Bucky refuses to take advantage of a man unaware. He steps toward the kitchen to start cooking dinner.

 

 

 

 

It all comes together when Clint comes home one early morning with a dark bruise on his jaw. Bucky stops short and Clint glances up from his phone, where he had been typing something.

“Hey,” Clint smiles slightly, and it pulls at the bruise, stretching it.

“What happened?” Bucky steps closer and Clint doesn’t stop him from putting his hand on Clint’s chin so he can look at the bruise better.

“Asshole was harassing some girl. Nat and I rock-paper-scissored for it.”

“Did you lose?” Bucky turns Clint towards the elevator, intending on bringing him up to his apartment.

“No. I won two out of three,” Clint grins a little. “After I knocked the guy out, his friend got in a cheap shot. Nat sure showed him how to punch a person after that.”

“You two are insane,” Bucky says, but it’s on the edge of a laugh. Clint laughs at that. Bucky gets Clint into his apartment, and sits the blond on the kitchen counter. “Don’t move.”

“Aye aye,” Clint salutes sloppily. Bucky fights back the grin and heads to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. Pulling out the ice bag, he moves back to the kitchen to fill it with ice. Without warning, he presses it to Clint’s jaw. Clint jolts and yelps, and Bucky laughs when he sends him a withering glare.

“Keep that there,” Bucky tells him. “Did you eat yet?”

“Not yet; didn’t have time,” replies Clint, so Bucky opens his fridge to make Clint breakfast. “I’m not keeping you from work am I?”

“No, I’m off today. I was just going to go out for a run,” Bucky’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, and he can almost feel Clint sweep his gaze over him when he hums.

Maybe Natasha had some merit to her texts after all.

“Lucky me then.” Clint glances at Bucky. Bucky puts down the eggs next to the stove.

“Why’s that?” Bucky leans against the counter, smile forming.

“Well, I get to see you.” Clint’s got a bit of a grin. “And you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“I’m also a fire preventer,” Bucky adds, stepping closer when Clint snorts a laugh. “And someone doesn’t look so bad himself.”

“Nat says I _do_ pull off the wounded look pretty well,” Clint’s grin turns a little sly as he drops the ice bag onto the counter. Bucky steps between Clint’s legs, laughing.

“You’re a tragedy,” He laughs, right before Clint leans down and they kiss.

 

 

 

 

Bucky’s woken up when Clint shifts under his arm. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, because Clint settles back down pretty quickly.

“I’m starving…” Clint mumbles into Bucky’s chest. Bucky remembers the eggs still on his counter.

“Five minutes and I’ll make us something.”

“I can do it…” Clint shifts to go get up and Bucky immediately tightens his arm to stop him.

“Clint….” He warns. Clint just laughs.

“It’s fine, I’ve got the firefighters on speed dial, remember?”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to talk to me on [tumblr](http://torii-storii.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
